Red Flowers
by Jangling Bacon
Summary: "In Flanders fields the poppies blow/Between the crosses, row on row/That mark our place; and in the sky/The larks, still bravely singing, fly/Scarce heard amid the guns below." For Remembrance Day.


Disclaimer: Any recognized characters are the exclusive property of Marvel. The author is in no way or form earning financial profit from this story.

The only beta for this story is _you_!Any mistake found, please report to me. Grammar, plot, character…any flaw, I want to know and fix. (Almost) nothing is too small.

Summary: "In Flanders fields the poppies blow/Between the crosses, row on row/That mark our place; and in the sky/The larks, still bravely singing, fly/Scarce heard amid the guns below." For Remembrance Day.

Dedication: the Dead, who lived, loved, and were loved; just not by all of us.

Please, somebody, just care.

* * *

Red Flowers

* * *

_"So weird!"_

_"Are you sure that's even _Wolverine_?"_

_"Flowers? What the heck?"_

Logan ignored the whispers as he strode into the Danger Room.

"Alright bubs, got into yer squads," he growled.

"Uh, Mister Logan?" asked one of the kids asked. Jamie Madrox. Cute.

"Problem, kid?" Logan drawled, trying to keep the growl out of his voice.

"No sir…just wondering why you're wearing a…a…"

"Never seen a man wear a flower before?"

"Well…uh…no?" Jamie said. Logan huffed.

"It's a poppy," he explained gruffly. "People wear them to honor veterans and soldiers."

"Wow! Tell us about it, Mister Logan!" Bobby begged. Maybe looking for a story, maybe just looking for an excuse to escape the Danger Room.

Logan blinked as a memory hit him. A beautiful woman, a log cabin, a cozy fire…

_"What's so great about today?" Logan rasped as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. She snuggled up closer to him._

_"It's Remembrance Day, silly," she smiled. "Remember? You were there when the holiday was created!"_

_"Oh yeah," Logan grinned. "Sorry, darling. So many memories."_

_"I'm sure you've got room for one more," she purred—_

"Uh, sure, kid," Logan said, shaking himself from the memory. "See, it started out after World War One…"

* * *

"Jean-Paul!" a voice called through the apartment. "Have you seen my poppies?"

"I don't even know why you bother," Jean-Paul snorted as he leaned against his sister's doorway. "It's just one day, nobody cares anymore!"

"I do," Jeanne-Marie insisted, digging through another box. "Now where are they?"

"Here take this." Jean-Paul rolled his eyes as he tossed the small red flower pin at her.

"Thanks!" Jeanne-Marie grinned as she caught the poppy. "Where'd you get this?"

"I…got them this morning," Jean-Paul admitted, rubbing his neck. His sister threw her arms around him.

"Thanks, little brother," she whispered.

"Little brother!"

* * *

The people screamed and ran. He didn't try to chase after them. They were scrawny little food-bites, not much of a meal. He was more interested in what they had brought.

His massive paws shredded through the abandoned backpacks. Pathetic sticks that made light. Pieces of human-food. Soft things that humans wore. And what was this?

He pawed at the flimsy paper _thing_. It seemed familiar, almost comforting. A human item had never caused such a feeling of…of…

The Wendigo picked up the red flower in his massive paws and lumbered off to find something worthy of his stomach.

* * *

"Happy Remembrance Day, sir," the officer said cheerfully, handing him a red poppy.

"You too, kid," James Hudson said, pinning the flower to his uniform.

The two entered the building where officers were laughing and chatting uproariously.

"Happy Remembrance Day, sir!" the group bellowed, raising mugs of steaming coffee.

"Happy Remembrance day to you too, fellows," Hudson replied. "Sorry I can't give you a day off."

"Hey, there's hardly any rest for the soldiers," one of the men said grimly. "Why should we get any better?"

"Well said, Harvey," Hudson said, clapping him on the back. "Now, where'd you get—"

Alarms blared through the building, interrupting the men.

"You were right," Hudson said. "There's no rest for Department H either."

* * *

Domino raised an eyebrow when she saw what Deadpool was wearing.

"Wade," she asked. "Why are you wearing a _flower_?"

Deadpool looked up from cleaning his gun, offended. "It's not just a flower, Dom, it's a _poppy_."

"Excuse me," Domino said sarcastically. "Why are you wearing a _poppy_?"

"It's Remembrance Day," Deadpool replied casually, turning back to his gun.

"And…?"

"And you're s'posed to wear poppies on Remembrance Day to honor the soldiers!" Deadpool exclaimed, waving his arms wildly. His gun clattered to the ground. "Gosh, Dom, every _good_ Canadian knows _that_!"

"I'm not Canadian," Domino said, turning to leave. "By the way, where do you get those?"

* * *

_In Flanders fields the poppies blow  
Between the crosses, row on row,  
That mark our place; and in the sky  
The larks, still bravely singing, fly  
Scarce heard amid the guns below._

_We are the Dead. Short days ago_  
_We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,_  
_Loved and were loved, and now we lie_  
_In Flanders fields._

_Take up our quarrel with the foe:_  
_To you from failing hands we throw_  
_The torch; be yours to hold it high._  
_If ye break faith with us who die_  
_We shall not sleep, though poppies grow_  
_In Flanders fields._

Hank McCoy sipped his cocoa as he read the words. He gently folded the worn paper and tucked it away in his desk.

Left untouched until next year.

* * *

I know it's not much compared to what the others have done. It's a rushed work. I wrote it in an hour. I just wanted to do _something_ for them.

If you enjoyed this, please review.

If you despised this, please review.

If you know a veteran or soldier, please review.

If you live, love and are loved, please review.

—Jangling Bacon


End file.
